


Witcher Whumptober 2020

by tinymacaroni



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Gags, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Major Character Injury, Mind the Tags, Rescue, Restraints, Torture, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26755411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinymacaroni/pseuds/tinymacaroni
Summary: Happy October, time to suffer! Most of these will be unresolved angst, as a heads up - there may be a few happy endings, but not many. Each chapter will come with trigger warnings in the notes, and tags will be updated as chapters are added. Have fun!
Relationships: Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Let's Hang Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 - Waking up restrained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Injury, Torture, Vomit (mentioned)

Jaskier woke with a start as a sharp pain lanced across his cheek - someone had  _ slapped _ him. The nerve! He tried to defend himself and found, to his deep dismay, that his hands were shackled and useless above his head.

"Oh, good, you're awake." Jaskier didn't recognize the voice, slow and dripping like honey, and he squinted in the dim light to try and make out his captor's face. There were two people in the room - the one who spoke, a tall, slender woman with dark skin and close-cropped curled hair, and the one who presumably did the actual capturing and administered the slap, a blond, broad-shouldered man wearing Nilfgaardian colors. He'd been captured by Nilfgaard and, by the woman's blue robe, he guessed he'd specifically been captured by a Nilfgaardian  _ mage _ . Fucking fantastic.

"What do you want from me?" Jaskier spat, his voice an uncharacteristically harsh growl.

"Not what,  _ who. _ I want Geralt of Rivia and his charge, Princess Cirilla."

Jaskier barked a hollow laugh. "You kidnapped  _ me  _ to try and get to Geralt? Oh, that's  _ rich _ , that is. Haven't you heard the news? Geralt and I split ways, I've not seen nor heard from him in months. I can't tell you anything."

"Oh, we know about that. But I'm sure there's still plenty you can tell us that will help." The woman smiled darkly, gazing at him with considering eyes. "Hit him again." She spoke the words plainly, no cruelty in her voice, only cold indifference. The brute she'd brought with her slapped Jaskier again, the back of his massive hand colliding with the bard's cheekbone. The taste of copper coated his tongue and he spat out a mouthful of blood, right at the mage's feet.

"If you're so certain I have information you can use, why bother torturing me? Can't you just pull it from my mind?"

"All magic has a cost. This is much easier, for me anyway. Now that you know we have no qualms about hurting you, we have some questions. First - where would Geralt take Cirilla?"

"I told you, I don't know anyth-" His words were cut off by a blow to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and feeling unpleasantly familiar.

"Where does Geralt feel like he would be most able to protect her?"

"I don't. Fucking.  _ Know! _ " Another punch to the gut, this one forcing bile to climb up his throat. He couldn't say exactly how long he'd been here, but he knew his stomach had been empty when he was so rudely awoken, or else his most recent meal would be splattered all over the ground. As it was, he still heaved, body instinctively trying to curl in on itself and failing, his arms stretched up as high as they would go and his feet barely skimming the floor.

Truth be told, he did have  _ some  _ idea of where Geralt was probably taking his child surprise, but he sure as shit wasn't going to tell these people.

"Who would Geralt ask for help, in his most desperate hour?"

"Geralt doesn't ask anyone for help." He tried not to think about Yennefer, or the other witchers Geralt told him about in passing, or the sorceress Triss he'd heard helped Geralt with the striga that had always sat heavy on his mind. Instead, he focused on the fingering and the notes of one of his particularly complex ballads, fingers twitching as best they could, playing an invisible lute where they hung, stiff and tingling. She said reading his mind would be too costly to bother, but he knew the word of a mage meant fuck all - especially a mage trying to torture information out of you.

They continued like this for maybe an hour, the mage asking questions, Jaskier telling her he didn't know anything, her brutish assistant inflicting new and terrible pains for each unsatisfactory answer. By the time the mage decided to stop, mingled blood and tears dripped down Jaskier's cheeks, and he was certain he had at least two broken ribs and some deep bruises that would stay with him a long time - if he even had a long time left to live.

"Enough. We'll let you stay here, think for a while on your answers. Decide if it's really worth it, protecting a man who cast you aside without a second thought. You can end all this, you know." The mage and her lackey left, and with them the light; somewhere in the back of his mind, Jaskier realized she must have magicked the light into existence.

"'Magic has a cost' my  _ arse _ ," he muttered bitterly. She probably just got off on torturing people. Wouldn't be the first he'd met.

Jaskier hung there in the pitch dark, alone, quiet. With nothing else to distract him, the pain he felt bloomed to the forefront of his mind, blocking out all other thoughts. He ached all over, but some places were worse than others. His throat burned from coughing up bile, each breath cause a piercing pain in his chest where his ribs were broken, and his shoulders ached from bearing his weight this whole time.

The worst of it all, though, was that she was  _ right _ . Geralt had discarded him like garbage, like he meant nothing, and where Jaskier had expected him to come back and apologize once he'd had time to cool off, he just… didn't. Jaskier had no idea where Geralt was right now, that much was true; presumably he was en route to Kaer Morhen, but who knows where he'd left from or how far he'd yet gotten.

He could only hope Geralt and Ciri were safe, wherever they were, and resolve not to be the one who endangered them - no matter what the Nilfgaardians did to him.


	2. Pick Who Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Major character death

"So, Witcher, who's it going to be? The girl, or your beloved bard?"

Geralt was bound to the wall, and the mage had Jaskier and Ciri both hanging in midair, surrounded by an eerie light that kept them both from making any sound. Ciri had frozen, her bright green eyes wide with terror, hair floating softly around her like a halo. Jaskier wasn't moving much, either, but Geralt could see from here that he was crying. They both knew who he would choose, there was no question about it. That didn't make it any easier.

"Give me the girl." 

Ciri's gaze turned to one of surprise, and Jaskier's shoulders heaved silently, wracked with a fresh wave of tears. Geralt's blood was pounding in his ears, this was wrong, all wrong, he finally had Jaskier back and now-

"Really? You'd sacrifice your lover for a girl you hardly know?" The mage's voice was oily with mock surprise, taunting Geralt. The witcher bared his teeth with a growl.

"Give. Me. The girl."

The longer they drew this out, the more Jaskier suffered. It was bad enough it had to end this way at all, he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this.

"Well, if that's your choice…" With a wave of his hand, the mage freed Geralt and let the spell binding Ciri drop. With his other hand, he killed the bard, who fell into a crumpled heap on the ground as he, too, was released from the binding spell.

Geralt pulled Ciri tight to his chest, hugging her fiercely, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Jaskier's body. He kept hoping it would move.

It didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's short n sweet - and by sweet i mean i almost cried writing it, you're welcome


	3. Forced To Their Knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Kidnapping, attempted sexual assault, physical assault

Jaskier choked back a whimper through the makeshift gag as he was forced to his knees, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. The room he'd been dragged to was dark, all he could see of his captors were two vague, massive figures standing before him.

"So, the bard likes to fuck freaks, huh? Maybe the little songbird'll give us a special performance." Jaskier glared up at them, snarling as best he could through the foul length of cloth.

"What?" asked the second man, his voice deeper, gravelly. "You'll fuck a witcher but not us? What's he got that we haven't, huh?" A massive hand cupped his jaw, pulling it roughly so he was facing the second man. The gag was taken out, and Jaskier had some  _ choice _ words for these brutes, but the gag was immediately replaced by two thick fingers, jammed into the back of his throat. He choked on the disgusting taste of salt and soil and shit, gagging as his tongue was pressed down, his mouth pushed open.

"Pretty little songbird's gonna sing for us tonight whether he wants to or not."

Jaskier made a noise that sounded like "Uck oo" and slammed his head forward, biting down on the fingers in his mouth and throwing his attacker off-balance in the process.

"You little fuck!" The one he'd bitten roared and clutched his hand to his chest, and the other one grabbed Jaskier by his hair, yanking him back and tossing him against the floorboards, kicking him in the ribs for good measure. Jaskier curled in on himself with a pained gasp, and the attackers were moving towards him again when the door burst open, splintering inward.

"Jaskier!" The witcher shouted, pausing for a moment to take in the scene before him. His lips rose into a snarl as he saw the two men standing beside Jaskier's shaking form. He grabbed them both by the scruffs of their necks, bashing their heads together before stooping in front of the bard, his entire demeanor softening.

"Jaskier?" A single blue eye peeked open at him, a trembling smile spreading across his lips.

"Knew you'd come," he murmured, eyes slipping back out of focus.

The last thing he remembered before passing out was Geralt's arms lifting him, holding him close to the witcher's broad chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen sometimes you need a little comfort with your whumpfest. and by "you" i mean "i," i can only handle so much of this
> 
> also whoops i just realized i got ahead of myself and posted early - so it goes


	4. Caged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for blood, not much else - this one's pretty mild, takes place during the blood & wine dlc main quest

Regis stood over his desk, pointed fingernails digging into the aged wood. It was no good, and if he was being honest with himself he'd known it all along. He would have to trigger his own bloodlust to find Dettlaff. He didn't look forward to explaining this to Geralt - the witcher's protective streak was endearing, really, but it also tended to be an obstruction in situations like these. Unfortunately, he had no other choice.

As predicted, Geralt wasn't exactly amenable to the idea.

\---

"You want to do  _ what? _ " Yellow eyes turned on him in shock, slitted pupils wide in dim light of the crypt. "Regis, you can't be serious."

"As the grave." Regis flashed a lopsided grin, but his wit went unappreciated.

"I can't let you do this."

"Presumptuous to think you can or cannot 'let' me do anything, Geralt." The lighthearted smile vanished, replaced by a look of grim determination. "I am going to do this with or without your assistance, but it will go much more smoothly with."

Geralt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. I don't like this, but fine. What's your plan?"

"There's an abandoned ruin deeper in the woods, Tesham Mutna. An old vampire fortress from long ago, once home to a truly dreadful fellow names Khagmar. A sad and bloody tale, I'll tell you on the way. Shall we?"

The witcher gave him a withering look, but stood nonetheless, gesturing toward the staircase. "Lead the way."

\---

"Khagmar was a violent, brutish man," Regis began his story as they wove between thick trees. "Like many higher vampires in those days - and, I suppose, today, though it pains me to think about - he saw humans as little more than cattle, and drank frequently of their blood. As I'm sure you recall, one of my kind who has let their bloodlust go unchecked for too long is… not a pretty sight." The memories of his first meeting with Geralt surfaced, and he took a deep breath to steady himself, the scents of rich soil and woody cedar filling his nostrils.

"Hmm."

"In any case, eventually Khagmar became a liability to the other vampires living at Tesham Mutna. He was vicious and unpredictable, and it was decided that he had to be stopped. A room in the basement of one of the towers was chosen and… specially outfitted, to contain him. There is a cage in the center of the room, suspended from the ceiling. The place probably reeks of death, more than enough to draw necrophages to its doors, which should suit our purpose well enough."

"And what, exactly, is our purpose?"

"Well, as I explained, my blood must be in an…  _ agitated _ state, for our summons to succeed. If you put me in the cage and we successfully attract the necrophages, the smell of their blood should be enough to stir up my own bloodlust. At that point, you'll need to collect some of my blood into this phial." He pulled a small glass container from his pocket, sealed with a cork.

"And how do I calm you down afterwards?"

"I should burn through the frenzy soon enough after the necrophages are eliminated. You will probably, I am embarrassed to say, have to carry me out of the basement - I won't exactly be at peak form."

"Hmm."

"Any other questions?"

"No."

"Good, because we're here." They stopped outside a blank slab of stone, and Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. "The door can only be opened by a higher vampire." Regis drew a small pocketknife from his satchel, nicking the tip of his finger and drawing it across the grey-white rock. A door that hadn't been there before opened, and Geralt followed him down into the basement.

\---

The next thing Regis could recall was waking up in the cage, woozy and exhausted and covered in blood - mostly his own, by the smell, which was good. For a certain definition of good, at any rate.

"Hey. You back with me?" Geralt's surprisingly soft voice helped pull him out of his stupor, and he realized his claws were still extended. Sheepishly, he pulled them back in, his fingernails ragged and stained the color of rust.

"Most of the way, I believe. Are you… Did I…?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"You didn't hurt me, Regis. I'm alright." Geralt extended his hand through the bars of the cage, settling his palm comfortingly on the vampire's shoulder. "Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

"Please. The smell is… overwhelming, to say the least." His head was pounding, and he felt truly disgusting. "Did you get what we needed?" he barely had the presence of mind to ask as Geralt unlocked the cage and pulled him gently, carefully out from between the silvered-iron bars.

"Yup. Got it right here." Geralt patted his hip, where the vial of blood sat in his pocket, securely corked. "Any preference on how I get you out of here?"

"Quickly." Geralt's laugh rumbled in his chest and Regis leaned into it as he was scooped up in the witcher's arms, cradled like an infant. It would be humiliating, perhaps, if he still felt shame. Four hundred or so years of living left him little to be ashamed of these days.

The trip through the woods was uneventful, and Regis slipped in and out of consciousness as they returned to his crypt. He so desperately wanted to sleep this off, especially once they made it back to his crypt and Geralt laid him on the dusty chaise near the bookshelves. Unfortunately, they had work to do - sleep would have to wait until after they'd saved his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen i just love geralt carrying people ok


	5. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a fairly mild one, tw for injuries though

"Geralt!" Dandelion burst through the door, panting and breathless. "Geralt, oh thank the gods we found you."

The witcher looked up at him through slitted eyes, one swollen almost entirely shut, and spoke in a voice that was hardly more than a scratched whisper. "Dandelion?"

"Oh, dear. You  _ are _ a mess." Dandelion knelt behind Geralt, untying the thick ropes that bound his wrists, gently rubbing at the red welts on his skin. He dug through a satchel at his hip, pulling out a jar of a thick salve with a sharp, herbal smell and slathering it on the witcher's wrists. Geralt groaned as he tried to move his arms, and Dandelion massaged the stiff joints carefully.

"How did you-?" Geralt broke off in a coughing fit, wincing as he bent forward. Dandelion shushed him, rubbing his hand in wide circles over the expanse of his back.

"Yenn did a locating spell, she and Triss are upstairs taking care of Whoreson's men. Here, Ger, tilt your head back and drink this." Dandelion tipped a bottle of red liquid to his lips, helping him swallow the potion. "There we are." The next thing he pulled from his pack was a roll of linen bandages, which he wrapped around the bloodier of Geralt's wounds, tying each off with deft fingers. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah." Geralt made an attempt to rise to his feet, shaking and falling back to the ground. "No."

"Tsk tsk, dear. C'mon, up we get." Dandelion slipped an arm beneath Geralt's, wary of his bruised ribs, helping him to his feet.

"Nn… Where are we…?"

"Upstairs, I know, it'll suck. You'll be alright though." His thumb rubbed soothingly over the nape of Geralt's neck, half-dragging him up the staircase and finding Triss and Yennefer taking a breather after defeating Geralt's captors.

"Nice of you boys to finally join…us..." Yennefer drawled, trailing off as she turned and saw Geralt. "Oh, gods, Geralt." She hurried forward, helping Dandelion support the witcher's weight.

"Wh- oh, shit." Triss's eyes went wide as she took in all of Geralt's wounds, though she hung back. Her fingertips were itching, though, with what little healing magic she knew - she'd seen Geralt in worse states, but not by much, and never by human hands before.

"Triss, do you have enough left in you for a portal?"

"How far?"

"We can take him to the Rosemary, Zoltan's there, he can help us patch him up."

"That I can manage." Triss moved her arms, opening a swirling vortex of energy and following the trio through it.

"Fuckin' hate portals," Geralt slurred as they landed in a bedroom on the top floor of Dandelion's brothel-turned-inn.

"We know, dearest." Yennefer patted his side gently, leaving Dandelion to lower him onto the bed while she sat imperiously in an armchair by the fire. "Triss, could you…?"

"Get Zoltan? On it." The redheaded sorceress scurried out the door and down the stairs, and Dandelion shot Yennefer a withering glare.

"Would it kill you to be polite? She's not your serving girl."

"She slept with Geralt. Repeatedly."

"So do I."

"Yes, but that's a mutual arrangement between the three of us.  _ She _ tricked him and took advantage of his memory loss. I still care for her deeply, but you must admit, it was a dirty trick to have played on both Geralt and myself."

"Fair enough." Dandelion shrugged a little, tucking a lock of Geralt's hair behind his ear. "Suppose I never gave it that much thought."

"Yes, we all know how rarely you consider the details of exclusive relationships." She poured a glass of wine from a bottle on a side table, a deep red that was dark enough to be nearly black, and took a deep drink.

"I've never cared much for them, I'll admit. Just don't understand why you'd want to limit yourself like that."

"Sometimes, it doesn't feel like a limit." She glanced at Geralt's still form, his chest rising and falling shallowly, and smiled sadly.

"Hm. I suppose I can understand that." Again, Dandelion stroked Geralt's hair, more to comfort himself than the unconscious witcher. "He is lovely, isn't he?"

"Mm. Quite."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah that's right we're jumping into the gameverse


End file.
